


Devil's Don't Fly

by Moonlit_Fics



Series: Devil's Don't Fly AU [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Demons don't have wings au, Gabriel is a dick, Post-Canon, Sad Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 01:16:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19819534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlit_Fics/pseuds/Moonlit_Fics
Summary: Demons don’t have wings.That was simply a fact. When an angel fell, their wings were destroyed by the fall from grace, and nothing would be left of them except loose feathers scattered to the wind and twin scars on the shoulder blades of the fallen. A reminder of what once was.





	Devil's Don't Fly

Demons don’t have wings.  
That was simply a fact. When an angel fell, their wings were destroyed by the fall from grace, and nothing would be left of them but loose feathers scattered to the wind and twin scars on the shoulder blades of the fallen. A reminder of what once was. So naturally when Aziraphale met Crowley, he was astonished by the demon’s ability to always remain on equal footing to him. 

Crowley would somehow always end up wherever Aziraphale was, Despite not being able to fly. As the years went on and automobiles were invented, it became clear that his lack of wings was never going to make him slow down or give up. 

Crowley did, however, also have quite a few odd quirks. He almost never took his glasses off, even if it was just him and Aziraphale, who knew about his snake-like eyes. He also had an odd gait, one that suggested permanent injury sustained during his fall. Most unusual, though, was the fact that he always had a bag. From the very beginning of time he had a pack slung over his shoulder whenever Aziraphale met him. 

Over the years, the style of bag would change; nowadays it was a black backpack. That wasn’t the odd part though; the odd part was that the angel had never seen him open his bag in the many millennia they’d know each other, nor did he take it off unless he was sleeping. Naturally this caused curiosity, but Crowley never gave him any real answers to questions he asked about it. 

Aziraphale’s curiosity came to a head one evening a week after Almost-Armageddon. The angel eyed the demon across from him with a smile. He’d fallen asleep draped carelessly across the couch, his fingers loosely grasping an empty champagne flute.

And there was the backpack, resting at his feet. 

He was an angel, he shouldn’t.

He really shouldn’t.

He was going to. 

Aziraphale unzipped the bag quietly, filled with curiosity.

He did not expect what he found. 

The backpack was simply filled with small weights and feathers. It was certainly confusing and not at all something he’d have expected. Nothing he’d-

“What the hell are you doing?”

Aziraphale jumped, letting out a startled yelp. 

“Oh! Crowley. You’re awake. And….” The angel looked at the newly filled bottle of champagne “.... Sober. I’m terribly sorry, I was just so dreadfully curious of why you bring it everywhere. The last thing I wanted to do was to betray your trust, and I still invaded your privacy simply out of curiousity” The shorter of the two rambled helplessly. 

“Angel. Stop. It’s fine.” Crowley insisted, sitting up. “You’ve got questions I’m sure, ones I don’t want to answer. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of people up there who can answer your questions, just ask about… what happens to an angel when they fall. How they’re punished”

Crowley looked almost pained when he threw his backpack over his shoulder and left with a quiet ‘See you later Angel’.

______

Aziraphale has been reshelving some of the books he read recently when he felt the air change. There was another angel in his shop. He didn’t bother turning around until he felt a hand on his shoulder. The overpowering scent of vanilla and printer ink clung to the figure, and Aziraphale knew who it was immediately.

“Gabriel” He muttered in greeting, turning to face the other angel. Gabriel was smiling as if nothing had transpired between them (In a way, it hadn’t; Gabriel believed their last interaction was the failed hellfire execution, while in reality he’d spoken to Crowley. Of course ‘‘twas told what happened, however).

“Aziraphale, it’s been a while” Gabriel said, removing his hand from Aziraphale’s shoulder as soon as he was acknowledged. He brushed his hand in his sweats, and the smaller angel couldn’t help the heavy feeling in his chest. That was right, the other angels thought he was unclean, immune to the fires of hell. He straightened his posture.

“It’s only been a few days. If I am to be completely honest, I hadn’t expected you to come find me again so soon” he admitted, making Gabriel’s grin wider.

“Well, surely your survival was all a part of the Almighty’s plan. In light of that, we wanted to see if we could get you to come back up there.”

He paused. He really wasn’t interested, Not after seeing what Heaven was willing to do at the end of the world. It was, however, the perfect excuse to ask-

“I was wondering...What’s the punishment for a fallen angel? Is it just being a demon?” He asked timidly. This earned a laugh from Gabriel.

“Just being a demon? That’s not enough of a deterrent?” He mused, shaking his head “their wings are ripped away as well”

That terminology was odd to Aziraphale. He knew that fallen angels lost their wings, but…

“Ripped away?”

“Yes. Right, you don’t remember that time period. Let me try to explain. We aren’t our corporeal bodies, we just inhabit them. Our wings, however, are part of us in any form. They’re a piece of our soul. Now imagine I ripped your arm off. A piece is missing. But you don’t grow used to it like humans do, because that piece is gone forever and will continue to bleed and ache for the rest of eternity. That’s what having your wings ripped away feels like”

Aziraphales face lost all color. “What does that mean for the fallen angel?”

“They never get their wings back and uhm… they always feel incomplete. They always feel like something is missing and will feel like that for eternity. It’s a never-ending punishment. The pain is even worse for fallen archangels.”

Gabriel’s smile grew and Aziraphale felt nauseous. 

“How do you know all this?” He asked quietly, causing the taller angel to raise an eyebrow. 

“I saw an archangel fall. An archangel who betrayed all of us. I went down to earth just to watch his reaction- he looked terribly panicked by the black clothing and lack of wings. He cried until he was dragged down to hell. It’s a shame, I liked Raphael” 

Aziraphale frowned “but I thought there was no Raphael anymore”. He piped up, earning a scoff from Gabriel.

“Only because he goes by a different name now”

“And what would that be?”

“Well after he was thrown from heaven he decided to cut all ties to the place, including his name. I thought your little demon friend would tell you more about his past, after you’ve been so good to him. Alas, I suppose demons will always be the same. Pathetic, ungrateful, scheming…. All of them. Anyways, Aziraphale, I want you to consider our offer. Come back to us.”

And with that he was gone before the smaller angel could process anything. 

_____

Crowley’s arrival the next morning was signaled by the roar of the Bentley’s engine outside, as it always was. The demon strutted in as always, but faltered at the focused expression on Aziraphale’s face as the angel flipped the sign to closed and pulled Crowley to the back. He took a seat and motioned for his guest to do the same. 

“So” Aziraphale started. “We have a lot to discuss. Gabriel came back yesterday to try and convince me to go back ... ‘home’. While-“

Aziraphale was cut off by the sound of wood splintering. He looked down at Crowley’s right side, at the armrest of his chair. There was noticeably a large piece missing that wasn’t missing before. On closer inspection, however, the missing piece was in Crowley’s fist. He looked livid.

“He came back here? Days after trying to kill you, he tried to convince you to go BACK with him?!” The demon snapped, voice raised dangerously. Aziraphale shook his head. 

“I know, I was surprised as well. But may I continue?” He asked. He took the lack of response as a yes. 

“Well I asked him about what happened to fallen angels and I just have more questions. First and foremost… You were an archangel?”

The demon tensed, and not for the first time Aziraphale cursed the dark glasses that covered Crowley’s expressive eyes. It was quiet for a moment.

“... I was, yes. Doesn’t matter anymore” he muttered quietly. “That’s not what this is about.”Aziraphale nodded, deciding now wasn’t the right time to pry. 

“Right, yes. May I see your bag again, please?” Aziraphale held his hands out. He noted that Crowley seemed hesitant to hand it over, but opened the bag. The angel took out a pure white feather. “This was yours? All of the feathers in here are?”

Crowley nodded slowly.

“What was here before weights were invented?” Aziraphale pressed. 

“Rocks at first. Bricks later on.” He muttered. 

Aziraphale frowned “and about how many pounds of weights are in here?”

Crowley paused. “‘Bout fifty”

The angel sighed quietly. “You’re trying to simulate the weight of your wings” he concluded. The demon just shrugged wordlessly, an attempt to appear unbothered. 

“Crowley, please talk to me” 

“Why, Angel? Why do you want me to talk about it?” Crowley hissed. 

“Because I care and hate seeing you unhappy or in pain!” Aziraphale shot back.

“You don’t have to see me unhappy! I can leave!” 

“Don’t leave! I don’t want you to see you like this, I don’t want you to feel like this at all! If there’s nothing we can do to stop it, the least we can do is see if we can make it better, even if only by a little.” Aziraphale insisted. Crowley softened slightly. 

“It’s fine. If there was a way to make it better I would’ve found it in the last 6,000 years” he muttered. Aziraphale rested a hand on his shoulder. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try”

Crowley offered a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes, but Aziraphale couldn’t see that. The Almighty took his wings to punish him. 

If stopping Armageddon hadn’t gotten his wings back?

Nothing would. 

“Whatever you say, Angel”


End file.
